


Bar Games

by RoseWritingUniverses



Category: South Park
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Mentioned Anxiety/Depression, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWritingUniverses/pseuds/RoseWritingUniverses
Summary: Stan knew that he was- theoretically- a great catch in any gay bar, this one just didn’t use professional ID scanners to get into. He slid his drink closer to him and nursed the whiskey. It was about thirty minutes before the place really filled with guys. If he was lucky he wouldn’t have to pay for more than just this drink. If he was really lucky someone would take him home before he even got drunk.When Craig saves Stan from something terrible, a new game plan forms.





	1. Chapter 1

Stan Marsh always felt a little ridiculous pulling the skinny jeans on, but even more so when he did his eyeliner using the front-facing camera on his phone. After Randy broke the mirror in his bedroom, Stan relied on the bathroom mirror during the week, and on weekends… he only left through his window in fear of his parents waking up. 

He scaled down the front of his house using the lattice structure his father insisted on during his second home-renovation phase. Without any effort to keep it up, it only served to make the Marsh house look ugly and to help Stan escape on Friday nights. When he safely reached the bottom he patted his pockets to make sure everything remained in his pocket. 

“Keys, phone, wallet,” he mumbled as he checked things off. With a nod to himself, he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. He pointed it at the ground a few feet in front of him as he made his way to his car. On these nights he parked down the street to minimize any chances of getting caught. 

(It was more of a pretense than anything. His parents gave up on actually  _ parenting _ him years ago.)

Since the speakers sounded like metal scraping against metal when he tried to play anything, Stan played music on his phone where it sat in the cup holder. The placement did better than those speakers did before they went to shit. Stan estimated a 12% battery loss as he made his way to Denver. As he thought about his destination he practically felt himself start sweating. He turned the A/C up all the way. 

 

He arrived at the normal parking garage and drove into a spot on the third level. The air was chilly enough to keep Stan from sweating too much as he walked down the stairs and the three blocks to the nightclub. Every time he made this trip, the lone midnight walk sent his adrenaline levels soaring. It only eased when he saw the line outside and the two cop cars ready to take on unruly drunks escorted from the building. He joined the back of the line and leaned against the bricks. 

The line moved forward quick enough and Stan presented his fake ID, only for the bouncer to push his hand down. 

“Just go pay, Marsh,” he said. Stan offered a small smile to Travis and gave his ten bucks to the regular blond boys taking fees. His repeated visits to this place only helped him pull off his crime. He slipped inside the building and walked straight to the stairs. He preferred to get his drinks at the same floor he would be dancing on. 

The bartender only nodded when he saw Stan. The guy knew his normal drink at this point, most of the bartenders in this club did. The barstool he always sat on became a constant and a comfort. He did this almost every other weekend and the feeling of stepping far beyond his comfort zone never failed to show in his gut. The age differences between him and half of the room made him feel smaller than the large quarterback he was. 

“How were classes this week, Stan?” Johnny asked. At this point, Stan fell into  _ this _ set of lies easily. 

“Most of them were great but chem lab can suck its own dick,” he said, and the man laughed. As far as Johnny knew, Stan was a veterinary major at the University of Colorado with a mild weakness in chemistry. (He figured it would at least be true in the near future, anyway.)

“Well hang in there, you know how gay guys love their pets.” Stan smiled and nodded. He’d met many sweet animals in the last several months. 

Of course. Stan knew that he was- theoretically- a great catch in any gay bar, this one just didn’t use professional ID scanners to get into. He slid his drink closer to him and nursed the whiskey. It was about thirty minutes before the place really filled with guys. If he was lucky he wouldn’t have to pay for more than just this drink. If he was  _ really _ lucky someone would take him home before he even got drunk. 

No matter how formulaic these nights became Stan experienced each one like it was something new. Part of it had to do with the dangers of leaving alone with a stranger. Another part surely was that for every two weeks he only experience this life for less than a single weekend. The rest of the time he spent in a small town with his teenage friends living a teenage life. He worked a boring job at the assisted living center. The weekends he didn’t come here he spent at Kyle’s house with him and Kenny watching movies and playing video games until the sun came up again. 

It was Kyle’s idea to spread out their Boys’ Nights to every other weekend instead of every Friday. Stan just took an opportunity to use those free Fridays. 

No one in South Park even knew he was gay. 

“College boy, huh?” a husky voice whispered. Stan sat up straight and looked over his shoulder. He smiled shyly at the man grinning at him and nodded. 

“UC Denver,” he said, and the man nodded back. He sat down on the empty barstool to the right of Stan and waved a couple fingers at Johnny. The bartender winked at the both of them. 

“What’s your major cute boy?” Stan smiled at the standard question. 

“Veterinary science,” he said. 

“Wow, a  _ smart _ cute boy. I’m Lou,” the man said as he extended his hand. 

“Stan.” He grasped Lou’s hand and took a moment to take in the calloused grip and the mature face. Stan didn’t see any color differences to indicate gray hair but knew that the man had to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Lou wouldn’t be the oldest guy Stan’s gone home with. 

Johnny placed identical cocktails in front of the two of them. They were an orange-pink blend with those mini umbrellas and blue straws. Was Lou a regular here? Stan took his cue and wrapped his lips around the straw while the man talked to him, looked up with his puppy-dog eyes. This was one of his better moves with older guys. 

After they finished those drinks (and Lou paid for both  _ and _ Stan’s whiskey), Lou took Stan’s hand to lead him to the dancing crowd. While Stan wasn’t small or even average-sized for a guy, he didn’t quite have the mature body that grown men often had. When Stan wanted to be dominant, he sought out the guys that probably  _ also _ had fake IDs but still college freshmen. Otherwise, he waited for guys like this one to come to him. His partner for the night wasted no time in pulled Stan’s back to his chest and grinding his crotch into Stan’s ass. Stan didn’t hesitate to grind back. 

The lights switched between the multi-colored and roving ones and the white-flashing strobes for the few songs that they danced through. During one of the short strobe phases, Lou turned him around and they gracelessly smashed their lips together. It would never be anyone’s favorite kiss but Stan had alcohol in him and he felt high. A hand squeezed his ass and he didn’t care if it was Lou’s or not. 

The man broke their kiss and put his lips to Stan’s ear, “I wanna take you home and finish this dance there, baby, what do you say?” 

Stan leaned back without their hips breaking contact. He bit his lip and nodded. He loved the wolfish grin he received in response, loved the way Lou walked him toward the stairs with a large hand on his back. 

Johnny winked at Stan as they caught each other’s eyes. When the two of them greeted the crisp-cold air outside Travis turned around and winked at Stan as well. Stan’s cheeks reddened from the wind, of course. 

“I parked in a garage a couple blocks away,” Lou said. Stan nodded and assumed it was the same garage he parked in earlier. Lou probably assumed he’d taken a bus or ride-service here and Stan didn’t say anything to suggest otherwise. 

It was the same garage. The two of them walked up the slanted levels to save any embarrassment on the stairs. Once they rounded the second level Lou pushed Stan against a concrete pillar and pushed his tongue into his mouth, cupped his junk through his skinny jeans and squeezed. Stan moaned and Lou moved his lips to his jaw and neck. 

“Almost wanna fuck you right here,” the older man growled. Stan chuckled despite the flashing red light going off in his mind. 

“I’m sorry to say I’m not really into exhibitionism,” he said. Lou didn’t let up on his rough display. He ground his hips into Stan’s and rested his thumb on his Adam's apple. Stan reached up to move the digit away but Lou swatted it away. 

“I  _ really _ wanna bend you over the hood of the closest car,” he hissed. Stan started to place his hands on Lou’s chest to push him back but the man grabbed his wrists and sent them straight to the concrete next to Stan’s head. 

“Hey, hold on!” Stan said. He felt Lou biting marks into his shoulder. 

“Lou, wait, please, I need a second.” The man continued to ignore him. The red-flashing light in Stan’s mind remained constant and he started shaking. The grips on his wrists tightened. 

“STOP! Lou stop!” He lifted a foot to kick at Lou’s legs or groin or anywhere he could connect but Lou only stepped further into his space. There was no room, Stan had no room.

“STOP! PLEASE STOP!” Stan screamed. He wriggled and squeezed his eyes shut when he felt a button somewhere come undone. 

And then all of a sudden there was a  _ smack!  _ The weight was gone and Lou only tugged on his wrists a little before letting go. They teetered in opposite directions. Stan stared as he righted himself and gripped his jaw. He didn’t think to look to his right. It didn’t matter, though, because then a body flew forward and more fists flew into the man.

Oh shit. What the fuck was this. Wait, who was-  _ no. _ While Stan stood petrified, Craig motherfucking Tucker laid into a man much bigger than him. Lou tried to fight back, tried to defend himself by grabbing at Craig’s arms but no one was faster than South Park’s track champ. 

However, once Stan took off that fact might have changed. His fast footfalls echoed in the parking garage as he ran up the slanted concrete. He almost tripped as he reached for the key in his pocket. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until he stood before his car. He fumbled with the key fob while he tried to press the button to unlock the doors. 

“Stan, hey!” Stan pressed the button twice and opened the back door to dive into the backseat. He shut the door behind him and squeezed himself into the floor space between the backseats and the back of the passenger seat. He saw a flash of blue outside and held the key fob to his face to find the lock button. 

Someone yanked the car door open right before he pressed the lock button. He yelped as the person jumped in and pulled the now locked door shut behind them. 

It was Craig. It was only Craig. Craig, who paused in his movements before he slowly sunk to the floor of the car opposite Stan. They both panted and stared wide-eyed at each other. There was blood on Craig’s knuckles. Stan’s blood rushed in his ears and his heart pounded in his chest. No noises came from outside the car. 

Stan understood somewhere in his brain that Craig was no threat to him. Craig didn’t make any more movements toward him and mirrored his own hiding position. Craig was nothing to fear. The terror was outside. Craig was safe. Lou was not hunting them down. Stan was safe. Craig saved him. 

“Sh-shit,” Stan stuttered. His vision blurred and he could tell he was shaking. He curled into himself tighter; he drew his legs flush to his chest and rested his elbows criss-cross on his knees. He clenched and unclenched his fists. The breaths he drew in were short and sharp. 

“Stan?” Craig whispered. Stan didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t know how. A hand touched his shin and he whimpered, he fucking whimpered. 

“Stan it’s okay. The guy’s unconscious, I took him totally by surprise. We’ll have to leave soon though before he wakes up.” While it made sense and was clearly the best plan of action, Stan shook his head. He couldn’t even move, let alone drive by the guy who almost- well. 

“It was about to be so bad,” he whispered. “It was going to hurt and anybody could have driven up and seen it. What if the cops came? They would have figured out I’m underage and they would know I’ve been drinking and I’d be in trouble. They would have forced me to call my parents and then they would  _ know _ . And if one person knows gossip in fucking South Park then  _ everybody _ knows.” 

Someone did know. Craig knew, he saw it. 

“If it was against your will then nobody can assume anything about you,” Craig said. He was giving Stan a way out but at the moment Stan just wanted to vent. 

“No. There are beat cops here every time I’ve been here. They would recognize me at this point. If you hadn’t saved me then it would have been  _ over _ .” He lifted his head and looked at Craig. He wiped tears away from his cheeks and eyes. 

“Thank you. I don’t know how the hell you showed up out of nowhere but you fucking saved me.” Craig lowered his eyes and drummed his fingers on his knees. 

“I followed you.” Stan almost didn’t hear it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. 

“...What?” Craig twitched and readjusted where he sat. Stan continued to stare. 

“I don’t have a fake and I can’t pass for twenty-one, so I just stand in that door space between the club and the building next to it? It’s out of the way- like you can’t feel the wind, and when guys come out of the club I just act like I’m waiting for a cab or something. Sometimes I can get a hookup that way. 

“I saw you and that guy leaving, but I couldn’t tell for sure it was you. But I was confused and shocked, you know? The popular jock that everyone knows is straight is walking out of a gay club with  _ an adult man _ and you just want to make sure you aren’t tripping on some drug. So I walked after you but mostly looked at my phone so it didn’t look weird. You guys walked in here and I ducked behind a car when he first pinned you. I was literally about to leave when you started yelling.” 

What the shit. 

“What the shit, Craig,” Stan breathed. The other boy didn’t appear to be comfortable admitting this. 

“I was going to leave! And I wouldn’t have told anybody if it ended up fine, hopefully I would have forgotten it when I went home with some guy!” Stan shook his head. 

“Are you sure? Most people wouldn’t hesitate to out the popular guy as gay. Especially now, when other places start to turn progressive, South Park wants to regress.” And of course, Randy Marsh the Trendsetter was front and center for the turn backward. 

“Dude, as a veteran gay guy I know better than to do that,” Craig snapped. Stan’s hunched shoulders dropped. Craig was right. After being out for almost a decade he was practically forced back into the closet. People avoided him. The town didn’t treat Tweek all that differently than they had before as the strange child of the coffee shop owner. He didn’t even have the extra mental capacity to handle a relationship, or so Stan had heard. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

It was silent for a few minutes. Neither of them looked at the other while they processed everything. 

“Stan, we really need to get out of here before someone sees that guy on the ground.” Shit. Stan closed his eyes as he considered everything. 

“I can’t go home, I can’t. I don’t think I can manage dealing with my parents in the morning after this,” he confessed. Craig nodded. 

“You can crash with me. You’ll be okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig drives Stan back to his house, and they talk.

 

Craig took the situation into his hands when he realized Stan wouldn’t be able to calm down enough to drive, let alone go by his almost-rapist. Every time the guy managed to control his breathing it seemed like something brought him back down. He managed to help Stan into the passenger seat before prying away the car keys. He put his hand over Stan’s eyes when they passed the (now conscious) man and kept it there until they were on the street. He briefly worried about a potential cop situation in the near future, but surely the man wouldn’t be that stupid right? Maybe that’s what Stan was freaking out about now.

“Can you put my address into the GPS? I always take the bus, so I don’t know the way,” Craig said. Stan didn’t speak as he complied. Out of Craig’s periphery, he saw his kinda-friend draw his legs up to his chest again, turning his back to the car door. 

“You don’t mind me driving your car, do you?” Stan shook his head. Craig’s shoulders slumped; he’d been hoping to get a verbal response. 

As they reached the limits of Denver their surroundings darkened. The city lights illuminated the distant area behind them for a few minutes, and then Craig turned the high beams on. He glanced at the clock and hated that it was just past 2:30. By this time he could have been making out with a stranger. Instead, he was driving a shell-shocked jock back to fucking South Park. 

It was silent for another twenty minutes before Stan spoke. 

“I can’t believe that hadn’t happened to me sooner.” Craig spun his head to stare at Stan for a second before looking back at the road. He looked a lot more together at this point. 

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Stan moved, slightly out of Craig’s line of vision. 

“I’m not really complaining about past experiences, I’ve always liked it. It’s just that I tend to attract guys like him, just less aggressive. I like guys that are bigger than me.” The matter-of-fact tone seemed out of place. 

“I would’ve assumed you’d go for the opposite, you know, given who you are,” Craig said, immediately regretting every word. He grimaced at himself. 

“Nope. I’ve gone for big and dominant probably three-fourths of the time. I like experiencing something without having to be in charge or making decisions. And guys who are a few years older always pay for the taxi back to my car, or they drive me themselves and we get breakfast. It’s better than an ice bath after a good practice,” Stan explained. Craig couldn’t believe he was being this open with him. 

Though, if he was the first person from South Park to know Stan was gay… maybe Stan needed to talk about it to someone. It probably helped that Craig was gay too. 

“I think I like guys that are my size or smaller- so the opposite, I guess. It’s easier to switch that way, and easier to be the big spoon. And assuming that no one else will ever hear about this conversation, I’ll add that I like to hold people more than anything.” What the fuck just came out of his mouth? Stan seemed to appreciate it though if his grin was anything to go by. 

“But dude, have you tried being the little spoon? It’s like for once not everything is resting on your shoulders and someone’s taking care of you. I sleep the best on these nights. Well, not tonight, probably…” Stan trailed off. Craig racked his brain for something to say. 

“Dude, you’re eighteen, why not just go on Grindr and get a boyfriend?” It wasn’t the best subtopic to change to but it was the only thing that he could think of. Stan snorted. 

“No one wants to date me. Sometimes girls at school  _ think _ they do, but even if I swung that way I’d be a shit boyfriend.” Craig laughed. 

“What makes you say that? You bad in bed or something?”

“No, that’s actually one of my two redeemable qualities. I’m good-looking and  _ great _ in bed. But okay, remember last year when I dated Red? I’ve known that I’m gay since the fourth grade- yeah the same time as you, don’t act surprised- but every closeted gay guy has a beard, right? I obviously didn’t feel interested in her but I still managed to act like a sad, insecure, clingy freak. I actually cried the day she broke up with me. Can you imagine what I would be like with a guy I  _ wanted _ to be with?” 

(They drove past the sign that welcomed them to South Park, and Stan turned the GPS off.)

Craig forced himself to ignore the tidbit about the fourth grade in order to focus on the point of Stan’s confession. It wasn’t much of a surprise considering how many people knew about Stan’s history with depression. That sort of thing tended to destroy self-esteem, and it didn’t help that in South Park everybody knew everything about everyone. When Stan started therapy in middle school the news was spreading through the hallways in less than a week, to the football player’s obvious dismay. In sophomore year some freshman saw Stan picking up antidepressants at the pharmacy and everyone knew by morning the next day. It was a wonder no one had found out Stan was gay  _ yet _ . 

“If you were with the right person then they would probably make you feel better about yourself and your relationship wouldn’t suffer as much,” Craig said finally. Stan hummed in lieu of an actual reply. 

The drive through familiar streets at a constant pace both soothed and bothered the boys. While the movement felt calming they also felt a building dread of returning to their reality. It helped though that their destination was a safe place, somewhere prying eyes and homophobic minds didn’t reach. 

Craig pulled Stan’s car into his driveway and explained to Stan that his sister was sleeping at a friend’s and his parents were out of town for an extended date night. It was mostly just to fill the space between them with noise, but Stan nodded politely anyway. 

After using the key hidden above the front door both boys snuck inside, quiet without having to be. Craig didn’t bother turning on any lights, just gently guided Stan upstairs to his bedroom. It felt intimate but not sensual. They were both too tired to keep up any posture and Craig couldn’t help notice the new bruises on the back of Stan’s arms. Despite the night’s ending going off script, it looked like he would still be sore in the morning. What a terrible joke. 

Craig opened a drawer containing most of his t-shirts and tossed one at Stan without looking. Then he saw his hand. 

“Shit,” he murmured, and then to Stan, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” Stan mumbled something in response but Craig didn’t understand it. He left the room and shut the door behind him. 

He flinched when he turned the overhead light on in the bathroom. It should have been expected given how long they’ve been in the dark. When he looked in the mirror he almost flinched again. There was a bruise forming high on his cheek, and his hands looked worse than he thought. He must have scraped his palms against the ground at some point, and his knuckles were swollen and the skin had broken in a couple places. Shit, he’d be sore in the morning too. 

Craig washed his hands and wrapped his knuckles. He grabbed a small washcloth from the closet behind him and ran it under cold water so he could put it on his face. After he wrung out the excess water he left and walked the five feet back to his room. Squeaks sounded through his bedroom door and something in Craig’s brain went off. He opened the door and turned the lights on. The squeaks paused for a small second before resuming, and his brain short-circuited. 

Flat on his belly, Stan lied in front of the guinea pig cage with hay between his fingers. His face was just a couple inches from the bars and he was smiling at the furry creatures. Craig’s beloved pets were squealing with delight that someone new was paying them attention and feeding them their favorite treat. The hay manger was empty because Craig forgot to fill it before he left. One of Stan’s knuckles were on the other side of the bars and the elderly Stripe 5 sniffed and nibbled at it. When Craig struggled to speak, Stan spoke up. 

“They sounded really upset because they couldn’t reach the hay bag, I hope you don’t mind that I gave them some. It’s kind of cool to watch them eat,” he said. Craig forced himself to breathe. 

“It-it’s fine. They’re supposed to always have access to it anyway,” he said. He walked over and grabbed a large handful from the bag to stuff in the container attached to the cage. He watched as his other guineas crowded around Stan’s knuckle to do the same as their littermate. 

“You wanna hold one?” Stan tilted his head up, smiled, and nodded. Craig got down on his knees and opened the top up. All three of the furry potatoes hurried to him. He picked up Stripe 5 and gently handed him to Stan. Stripe immediately cuddled against Stan’s chest and Stan pet and cooed at him. Craig scooped up the other two and placed them in a circle he made with his legs. They mostly scurried around to different areas of his legs to sniff at his jeans. 

“I’m not mad at this, I like this. You have wonderful guinea pigs, Craig,” Stan said right before he placed a kiss on top of Stripe’s head. Craig thought he might die. 

In the past couple of months alone, Stripe had bitten Clyde, peed on Token, and screamed at Jimmy. He only tolerated Tweek because he understood that the boy needed the comfort. Yet here was Stan who managed to get the animal to come to him in the cage, and cuddle against him as if he was Craig. 

Stan gave Stripe another kiss before placing him in Craig’s leg-circle. He picked up the fluffiest guinea, Baby, and cooed over her immediately. She let out a small, content noise and Craig wondered what kind of secret superpowers Stan possessed. After a few more minutes of cuddling and complimenting Stan switched out Baby for Dummy Jr. (he was a gift from Clyde) just to make things fair. 

It was overall very calming and by the time Craig placed all his pets back into their cage the washcloth he held was no longer cold. He had almost tossed it into a corner when Stan paused him. 

“Um, can I use that? I just remembered that I’m wearing eyeliner, and I really don’t want to get it on anything while I sleep.” Craig handed it to him without saying anything. No wonder Stan was making him feel weird tonight, eyeliner did good things for guys that looked like him. 

While Stan wiped off what he could of his eyeliner, Craig changed out of his tight clothes and put on a t-shirt. He turned away to turn off the light while Stan slipped off his jeans. 

“I’d ask if you were okay with sleeping in a bed with a guy but I think we both know the answer to that,” Craig joked, and he was glad that Stan found it funny. Stan waited for Craig to get in first, and then climbed in next to him. They both lied on their backs. 

“Thanks for this, Craig. I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if you weren’t there,” Stan whispered. Craig nodded because he felt the same. 

“Thanks for giving my guinea pigs hay,” he said. Stan laughed and Craig smiled. He felt Stan turn over on his side.

The silence that fell over them felt comfortable and natural. The occasional squeaks and other noises could be heard from the guinea pigs as they carried on with their own little lives. Craig always found these noises to be comforting and grounding. Nothing in the human world mattered to them as they scurried and ate and pooped. Their little noises affected Craig like a lullaby, and his eyelids grew heavy. 

“Craig,” he heard Stan whisper, “I’m afraid to go to sleep.” Without thinking about reactions or consequences, Craig turned onto his side to face Stan’s back. He molded himself against the other boy and wrapped an arm around his waist. He placed his forehead in the space at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re fine, I’ve got you.” And then he fell asleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please leave a comment if you have any feedback. I do take suggestions and ideas into consideration.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan feels like shit, and everybody notices.

 

When Stan woke up the following morning- or, afternoon rather- he didn’t freak out. It doesn’t take much longer than a second for all the events of the night before to come back to him. He hadn’t been more than tipsy and by the time he fell asleep the alcohol had probably all but left his system. He still felt a slight headache though. And his back was really warm. He remembered why he felt a smaller weight than usual pressed against him and around his waist.

Craig was still asleep so Stan moved with caution. He started by sliding his legs over and off the bed, working his way out from his feet up. He turned his head right before he was fully free and saw his friend’s sleeping face. He looked less sharp when he was dreaming.

Stan looked at his watch and saw the time, two in the afternoon, and swore under his breath. In the past, he was at least driving home by this time. He looked around the room for his stuff and for a way to leave Craig a note. After he put his clothes back on he scribbled a message onto a loose sticky note that no longer had any stick. He placed it on Craig’s nightstand, blew each of the curious guinea pigs a kiss, and left the room.

It was when Stan sat in the driver’s seat of his car that the emotions caught up to him.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. He placed a hand over his heart and couldn’t believe it had already started to beat faster. He breathed shallow breaths. Stan squeezed his eyes shut and started counting backward in the way he taught himself. His therapist said it was clever, to use it when he needed to, and also when he didn’t. By the time he reached ten, he felt okay enough to start the engine and drive the short distance home. Home to hopefully not see his parents until he had to.

 

Craig felt disappointed when he woke up alone. He didn’t let himself focus or dwell on it because he didn’t want to think about why he felt that way. Instead, he smiled at the note Stan left.

 _Thank you for everything. We’re friends now. If you ever need anything give me a call. Stan_.

He pinned it to the corkboard on the wall a few feet about the guinea pig cage. Stripe 5 called for his attention and Craig gave it to him. He loved his pigs the most and they loved him the most back. But sometimes he wanted something a little bigger than a guinea pig to hold in his arms.

Oh fuck, that was really gay.

 

Monday came and Craig already knew that he would be extra sensitive to Stan’s presence. He found it too stupid and cliche to lie to himself so he admitted that in the few hours he spent with Stan he’d developed some sort of attachment to him. He didn’t think he was alone in that either, or maybe he was reading too much into the note. He hoped he wasn’t.

Craig shared two classes and the same lunch period with Stan. In second-period AP biology, Stan was in his seat before Craig walked in. The boy sat close to the front and managed to never call too much attention on himself unless he answered a question. He was better at biology than Craig was, but Craig figured that he was better at physics anyway.

The football captain sat with dull, frustrated eyes with purple bags under them. It wasn’t too noticeable. When he met Craig’s gaze he offered a small smile but didn’t keep it on long. Everything about him seemed to droop except for his shoulders, which he kept hunched up to his chin. As Craig kept walking to his seat he thought about turning around and offering Stan help but had no idea what he would mean by it.

At lunch, Stan sat in his normal spot with Kyle and Kenny. He spent almost the entire period with his head resting in his folded arms. Although Kyle’s face wasn’t in his field of vision, Craig could tell Kenny wondered why his friend didn’t seem to respond even as he tried to dramatize his stories. Craig and his friends sat one table away, and even though Jimmy and Token both noticed Craig’s wandering gaze they knew better than to say anything with the other boys so close. They could and _would_ grill him later.

It took longer than he thought. They didn’t break their vow of temporary silence until later that Thursday. Stan still looked and acted tired so Craig continued to watch from afar. And this time even Clyde and Tweek picked up on it. Clyde suggested they all hang out at his house after school. (Clyde enjoyed being around people, it was always either his house or Token’s.) Craig knew what the first topic of conversation would be.

And they didn’t even take long to prove him right.

“So what’s up with Stan, bro,” Token said once they’d reached Clyde’s room. True to Clyde’s inclusive and friendly nature, his room had a full-sized couch and entertainment system. Craig and Token normally took the floor to avoid fighting for “the best spot” on the couch.

“Y-yeah, y-you got a crush on him or s-something?” Jimmy joked. Clyde laughed at the unfunny comment as he brought in a couple bags of chips and some drinks. Tweek shut and locked the door behind them all and checked to make sure the lock bar was secure.

Tweek fake-gasped. “What!? Craig, how dare you?” Craig swiped a hand across his ex’s shin and the boy shrieked. Then he turned his head to stare at Clyde. The boy was setting up a video game and didn’t notice the eyes on him until he noticed the ongoing silence.

“What?”

“Well I’m waiting for everybody to say something and you haven’t commented yet,” Craig said. Token at least appreciated the joke, while Clyde pouted.

“What is there to say? I don’t know how to make a clever joke out of you stalking the dude like a damn tiger,” he whined. Everyone seemed to find that funny. (Except Craig.)

“Fair enough,” he mumbled. “Maybe I don’t like it when one of the school’s only cute guys looks like someone ran over his puppy in front of him. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week,” he said. (He knew for a fact that it had been less than a week, but almost.)

“I can’t believe you just referred to Stan Marsh as one of the school’s only cute guys,” Token said.

“And I can’t believe he’ll say that without making sure that I know I’m still better looking,” Clyde said.

“You aren’t,” chorused the rest of the four. (For the next ten minutes Clyde refused to talk to them and only focused on the video game on the TV. No one felt bad.)

“Maybe he’s j-just extra depressed. He’s like that s-sometimes,” Jimmy suggested. It was certainly a plausible explanation even though Craig knew the truth.

“And it would make sense since we aren’t in football conditioning with the rest of the team. No point, really,” Token said. He played football with Stan all four years of high school, probably even most of middle school.

“Or maybe he’s- GAH- getting probed by aliens at night and he can’t- urgh- sleep!” Tweek said, and Craig winced. The probing idea wasn’t all that far from what Stan was probably dreaming about.

“It’s probably not a big deal, he’ll be fine by Monday,” Craig said. He wanted to dismiss the conversation because he wanted to think about the new ideas that began to fester. The history of depression probably made the semi-traumatic event reverberate worse in Stan’s head, and that could be _bad_ if he didn’t actively get a grip on it. He still went to therapy, right?

“Well, maybe if he doesn’t I’ll be more attractive than him,” they heard Clyde mumble. It was a stupid thing but when Craig shook his head they left it alone. They might as well play the video game anyway.

(' _Stan will always be better looking than you,’_ Craig thought snidely, and to his surprise found that he meant it.)

 

When Monday came and went and Stan only got worse, Craig began to actively worry. In order to get him to lighten up, his friends tried to joke around, tease him for his crush.

“You guys didn’t even like each other for years. Stan always cared about everything and you didn’t give a shit about anything. Now here you are giving a shit about him,” Token said, but Craig barely offered a grin in response.

On Thursday, the shadows under Stan’s eye drooped to the bottom of his nose and his shoulders hunched up to his ears. He could barely keep his head up in the classes he shared with Craig and stared down at the ground. His lunch table was quiet as Kyle and Kenny gave up on bringing his energy back, letting him try to rest for the short time he could. Even Tweek started to eye Stan with wearily, and he didn’t joke about probing aliens. Clyde didn’t say anything on how attractive either of them looked.

Craig felt an overwhelming wave of relief with the smaller wave of surprise when Stan knocked on his door Thursday evening after dinner. He had his backpack on one shoulder but had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Who is it, Craig?” Tricia asked from the kitchen. Craig didn’t take his eyes off of Stan as he answered, afraid that if he looked back that the boy would be gone.

“One of my friends,” he said. Stan tried to smile at the term but it looked more like a grimace. It was quiet for another moment before Stan spoke.

“I was wondering if I could deepen my debt toward you.” His voice was rough and weak. Craig pulled him inside and shut the door, briefly looking out to look for witnesses. Then he brought the boy upstairs to his room. He locked the door behind them and hoped his parents didn’t try to twist the knob before knocking.

“What are you talking about?” Craig said. It was a minute after Stan initially asked the question but both felt like he’d just said it.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed I kind of look like shit,” Stan joked. He didn’t smile when he said it but Craig hoped that’s what it was.

“I thought you looked like shit last Monday,” he tried to say. Stan looked him in the eyes.

“It was worse than you thought, I was wearing _makeup_ that day.” Craig thought of the bruises he saw on Stan’s arms.

“No you weren’t, you had bags under your eyes,” he argued, which honestly wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but Stan shook his head like it didn’t matter.

“Not on my face. It was on my jaw and throat… and arms and ribs,” he whispered. The last two Stan wouldn’t have needed to put makeup on if he wore a long-sleeve shirt, but Craig knew what he meant.

“Oh,” he breathed, and at that Stan’s face crumpled. He brought his hands up to cover his face and his shoulders started to shake.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he confessed through his tears, “I talked to my therapist about it last week _and_ yesterday and I still can’t fucking sleep. I either stay up all night or can’t close my eyes for longer than a few minutes at a time or I wake up in the middle of an anxiety attack! She helped me reason through everything and I keep repeating all the reasoning things to myself and but I still can’t get any sleep! I’ve tried alcohol and melatonin and cold medicine and everything!” Craig gently pulled him to sit on his bed before he collapsed on the floor. Stan let himself be moved, too taken away with his sobbing.

“I- I came here because I thought if maybe I could actually sleep… if you let me get in your bed with you. That was the last night of decent sleep I can remember, and if I can get my brain to reset then maybe I’ll finally feel better.” Craig rubbed his back until Stan’s sobs subsided to quiet sniffles.

“You can stay here, don’t worry about it. We can go ahead and get ready for bed now if you want. You can go use the bathroom down the hall, I’ll just tell my mom that a friend is staying over, she won’t mind.” She would, though, since it was a school night, but would allow it if she knew it was an emergency, like when she let Karen McCormick stay over. Craig thought this qualified.

Stan nodded and they both got up. Stan brought his bag with him to the bathroom while Craig jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen where his mom and sister were. He eyed Tricia as he silently pulled his mother into the adjacent laundry room.

“What’s up?” she asked when she saw his face. Over the years she had grown softer to her children, especially Craig, when it came to worried faces and gestures.

“Mom a friend of mine… he’s not doing well and he needs to be with a friend tonight, so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if he stayed here,” he said. He was careful not to use Stan’s name because he knew it would stand out. Stan wasn’t part of his normal circle of friends.

“If he needs to be with a friend does that mean he needs to be looked after? Because I understand if you want to help him but if he’s going to drain _you_ of your time to sleep…” she trailed off. He shook his head.

“Literally the only thing he needs and wants is sleep,” he assured her. She looked skeptical, and he came up with a quick lie.

“His parents are fighting at night and he hasn’t slept in like, two weeks,” he explained. At this, his mother nodded in understanding.

“He can stay. Just make sure the both of you have finished your homework and brush your teeth,” she said. He thanked her and she pulled him in for a hug. He actually hugged back.

He made a stop at his bathroom to brush his teeth like she’d told him to. He caught a reflection of his hands in the mirror and stared. They were completely back to normal. There were no scratches and no bruises, nothing on him that came from that night. His own eyes weren’t any more tired than a normal teenager’s, and his shoulders only hunched up now because something was happening. He turned the light off and walked to his bedroom.

He shut the door but didn’t lock it. His mom might think he was lying about his “friend” if he locked it.

Stan sat on the ground next to the guinea pig cage again. Craig let him pick them up out of the cage to give them the affection they always wanted to receive. Stripe 5 once again cuddled into Stan and even rested his head on the junction of his neck and shoulder. It was a guinea pig hug, and Stan’s eyes were wet again.

Craig changed before he turned the light off and then the two of them climbed into bed. Craig maneuvered the charging cord to his laptop around his bed so that it could remain charging while he pulled up Netflix. Stan curled up against his side and wrapped an arm around Craig’s waist, face resting against his ribs. Craig wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rested his hand on his waist.

“Have you been working out?” Stan murmured. He’d already closed his eyes.

“No, why?” Craig asked. Stan hummed.

“I don’t know, you seem bigger.”

When his friend was for sure asleep, Craig looked at the time on his phone. It read _9:48_ at him and he was surprised. His parents were definitely still awake, probably everyone except the elderly was. He tightened his hold on Stan and hoped that he felt better in the morning.

 

Laura Tucker followed her husband up to bed when the time neared eleven. She’d told him about their son’s friend staying over. He didn’t seem to mind since she was okay with it, and didn’t ask any questions. Thomas didn’t even stop outside his son’s closed door. When he went into their own bedroom, however, she did, just to listen. She could hear something faintly, a familiar sound from a TV show, and opened the door as quietly as she could.

She met her son’s eyes, illuminated by the light from his laptop screen. Next to him slept Stan Marsh, someone she wasn’t aware was her son’s friend. She’d heard from other members of the town though that the boy wasn’t feeling very well, maybe worse than usual. Nobody ever minded their own damn business.

The mother looked back to her son, watched as he raised a finger to his lips. She nodded and raised her finger to her own lips, and shut the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're gathered here today because SOMEBODY couldn't stay AWAKE.

 

When Craig’s alarm rang at 7:30 the next morning, both boys felt violently ripped from the peaceful dreaming state that they had been in. As they took in their surroundings and noted their curled up position, they didn’t panic or move too fast or freak out. Stan smiled down at the blankets and Craig noticed a faint blush to his cheeks. It could have been from sleep. Craig reached over Stan to turn off his alarm and didn’t think twice about ruffling Stan’s hair in the process. 

“I’ll drive you to school today,” Stan yawned. His yawn triggered Craig’s own while he nodded. It’d be great to not have to take the bus. Then a thought occurred to him. 

“Don’t you have to take Kyle and Kenny too?” Stan paused in his movements to leave the bed. He looked away from a moment in thought. 

“Yeah.” Immediate questions ran through both the boys’ thoughts as they considered the other boys’ presence. 

“And you’re not out to  _ either _ of them?” Stan shook his head, still staring at nothing. 

“You don’t have to drive me then,” Craig concluded. Stan was terrified at the thought of coming out, even to his best friends (although no one believed Kenny wasn’t queer in some way). 

“No,” Stan immediately replied, “I will drive you to school. I don’t have to tell them anything more than I saw you walking and decided to give you a ride. They won’t really believe it but at this point, they’re not going to press it. You can’t sit shotgun though, that’s too suspicious, and Kyle’s possessive over that seat anyway.” Craig believed that. 

Stan left to brush his teeth while Craig got dressed. He eyed the guineas’ cage and stuffed some more hay into the manger. 

 

Stan shook himself while he was in the bathroom. He’d gotten nearly ten hours of sleep the night before and still felt like it wasn’t enough. It was something though because as he looked in the mirror he could tell he looked better, just a little. Still lodged in his gut, however, the growing electric ball of anxiety throbbed. A part of him knew there wasn’t any tangible or logical reason, but he still checked himself for any possible injuries. There was nothing to see, he was fine. 

“I’m safe, I’m okay, I am not in any danger. Today will be fine,” he whispered as he stared into the reflection of his eyes. Stan felt less stupid doing this than when his therapist originally made him say the affirmations, but today he needed to whisper. How mortifying would it be if the handsome boy who rescued him witnessed his pathetic chant? Even if it didn’t weird him out, Stan couldn’t risk seeing a pitying look in the other boy’s eyes like he’d seen in Kyle’s. 

He ignored the question that arose in the back of his mind, the one that wondered why he cared about what Craig thought anyway. He didn’t look anymore at his reflection before he left the bathroom. 

(The question came back harder when he walked back into Craig’s room and saw the boy bent over as he teased his pets.) He cleared his throat and started on his next morning task. Craig took the opportunity to take his turn in the bathroom down the hall, so Stan snuck a few pets and coos at the potato-shaped rodents while he dressed. Compared to the last morning he spent in this room, Stan decided to take his time and look around. 

The guinea pigs and guinea pig paraphernalia took up almost a fourth of the floor space in the room. Above the cage hung framed photos of Craig’s past pets, straight and even and perfect-looking. Craig had covered the rest of the wall space as well. The corners of the space posters had faded and torn in some places. Some appeared much newer than others in this respect, but their placement on the walls suggested a specific grouping. He brought his shoes closer to a corner so he could better see the details on a couple posters. 

“Those are Jupiter and its moons. You can tell it took me a while to get all the moons I wanted,” Craig said. Stan turned around and looked at his newly-confirmed friend. He wore a navy-blue NASA shirt with floral designs within the circle and jeans that showed how well-developed his leg muscles were. His hair remained in its messy state until he ran a comb through a couple times. 

“Definitely better than painting the walls or getting wallpaper,” Stan said. He wanted to make the compliment better but he wasn’t quite sure how to get those words out of his mouth. Craig still smiled, though it was mostly to himself. 

“That was the idea- they wouldn’t let me paint the walls ‘space colors,’” Craig said. 

The boys both determined to ignore the thickness in the room as they finished getting ready, and didn’t look each other in the eyes as they received the toasted bread with jam from Craig’s mother. (Craig ignored the look of surprise and confusion as his mother offered Stan the breakfast. Stan ignored the concern and disbelief that appeared simultaneously on the two Tuckers’ faces.)

 

Neither Kyle nor Kenny verbalized their questions. Kyle simply got into the front passenger seat and stared at his super best friend until Stan addressed the boy-shaped elephant in the car. 

“I woke up feeling better today, I saw him walking, I’m giving him a ride,” was all Stan said. Kyle let the rest go when he saw that he did actually look better. Stan even smiled like he meant it. The ginger nodded his head at Craig and then strapped himself into his seat. He took out a book and read like that was the routine. It didn’t surprise Craig. 

Kenny didn’t need to ask any questions. He jumped into the backseat next to Craig with more energy than the other three had. Then he took a look at his surroundings with a growing grin on his face. He acknowledged Stan with a nod and then stared at the new noiret with an expression that normally pissed Craig off. 

“I feel like we’re  _ all _ gonna have a good weekend, guys,” he commented. Kyle turned in his seat to give him a confused look, but Kenny gave nothing away. Kyle went back to his book and Craig waited for Kenny’s attention to turn back to him. It took about five seconds before he leaned over. 

“Play your cards right Tucker and maybe you’ll get a permanent spot in here,” he breathed. Craig scoffed and shoved him away. 

Craig hoped Kenny was right. 

 

Stan felt so miserable in the previous days that he didn’t even notice the worried or judged looks on his peers’ or teachers’ faces. With the artificial lighting and noises that surrounded him room to room, he could only maintain a quiet facade. He went over the troublesome night in his mind and tried to work out why he still couldn’t rest or function. His therapist’s mantras didn’t work as well when he couldn’t say them out loud, and all of his senses blurred as time went on. The idea of going over to Craig’s occurred to him multiple times before he let himself give in. He couldn’t even remember what he said to the guy before walking into his house. 

He couldn’t help but notice the change though. Before lunchtime, seven different people, including two of his teachers told him how they were glad that he felt better. A couple of his football friends told him not to let “some chick” do that to him again, which he didn’t respond to. Bebe, who sat next to him in history, only smiled at gave him a piece of candy. Knowing her fascination with psychology she may have been attempting a slight conditioning effect to positively reinforce his happiness. He found himself appreciating the thought because if it worked, it worked. The candy was good. 

The biggest surprise when Token and Clyde both sat down at his normal table with Kyle and Kenny. Kenny didn’t hesitate to welcome them with jokes and smiles. Kyle brought up his AP social studies class with Token as an icebreaker, and then went back to working on homework. Within a few minutes Tweek, Jimmy, and Craig also showed up. Craig took the last seat next to Stan, and the space between them felt warmer than the space between Stan and Kyle. 

“Man, I love having you guys here! I know it’s only because Stan and Craig became friends literally overnight for some reason but I’d like to think there’s more to it than that,” Kenny said, and half the table groaned. Stan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Dude,” Kyle gritted out, “Why?”

“There’s no point in not addressing it! And if my curiosity kills me then I’m sure my satisfaction will bring me back,” Kenny grinned. 

“Yeah, you sure look like the Cheshire  _ cat _ ,” Craig huffed, and Jimmy laughed. 

“G-good one, Craig,” Jimmy said. 

“No, there will be no more puns at this table,” Token declared, to which Kyle agreed. The half of the table that stayed quiet before groaned then. It was at that point that new seating arrangements were made and adhered to. Stan averted his eyes when the visuals of people moving in front of him and disrupting the constant light bothered him. Despite having made the joke, Craig sat still next to Stan on the “no puns” side of the table. Kyle now sat opposite of Stan and eyed him with his head tilted. 

“Dude, are you okay?” From two seats away, Kenny’s head swiveled and he looked straight at Stan. 

The reason that Craig hadn’t moved at all became clear to Stan as he realized his whole upper body leaned onto the taller boy. His mouth felt dry, and he couldn’t make himself sit up again. 

“Yeah… well… I’m not sure…” and then it seemed as if someone swept the world from beneath him and left him in the dark. 

 

Most of Stan’s body felt cold and clammy except for his hand, which felt much warmer and comfortable. As consciousness spread from deep in his brain to behind his eyelids, the light he was under grew brighter and brighter. He began to recognize the slight cushioning he was lying on and he made a noise in the back of his throat. 

“Stan?” The hand holding his moved like it was about to let go so Stan gripped it tight. The other hand didn’t try to leave. 

“Why am I at the nurse’s?” There was no need to open his eyes just yet. 

“You passed out and we couldn’t wake you up. Kyle would be here but he and Token have a test next pe- well, now. Clyde and I brought you, he left.” So that’s why Kyle had kept his nose in his papers all day. Poor Kyle, he should know by now that he studied well enough and didn’t need to cram the day of. 

“Yeah, we should get Kyle a pizza,” Stan said, and it didn’t occur to him that Craig wouldn’t understand his train of thought. Craig stayed quiet for a moment. 

“Uh, Stan, we can’t. We’re waiting for your mom to pick you up and take you to the hospital.”  _ What? _ Stan opened his eyes and lifted a hand to block the harsh light. Craig frowned at the action. 

“Why does anyone have to take me to the hospital? Why does  _ she _ have to take me to the hospital?” At this moment the nurse walked in with a frown deeper than Craig’s. 

“Oh, good, I’m glad you’re awake Mr. Marsh. I heard from your classmates that you’ve been feeling under the weather lately. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to contact either of your parents, so we might have to call for an ambulance.” Stan’s heart leaped into his throat and he scrambled to sit up. The tissue paper beneath him rustled and tore where his shoes moved. 

“No, no, you don’t. You don’t have to do that- Craig will take me! He can drive my car and that way it won’t be left on campus,” he rambled. He knew what was happening, knew that a hospital visit was unnecessary. He didn’t want to admit it to the nurse though, didn’t want to say anything while the school walls were listening. 

The nurse considered it and reluctantly agreed when Craig reminded her how expensive an ambulance would be and how Stan was awake and sitting up. Craig helped Stan off the table and carried both of their backpacks outside and to the car. Stan didn’t bother trying to take control and tossed his keys to the waiting noiret. Once he buckled himself in he lowered the visor and leaned the seat back a little. He felt dizzy and nauseous. 

Neither of them said anything until the campus could no longer be seen in the rearview mirror. Then Stan spoke up. 

“You don’t need to take me to the hospital, I just need to go home.” He lifted his arm to rest over his eyes and hoped that helped more than just a little. 

“Dude you  _ literally _ blacked out in the middle of lunch, and you stayed out for like, twenty minutes!” Craig argued. Stan would have shaken his head but knew better. 

“I  _ literally _ haven’t taken my medication in two and a half days, so I’m  _ literally _ going through withdrawal. I guess I’m still so fucking exhausted that it’s affecting me worse than normal. Just take me home, no one will be there.” At least, he hoped his father hadn’t taken the day off to do something ridiculous. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you take your medicine?” Craig replied, and Stan felt everything as his driver made a U-turn. His stomach may have done a one-eighty as well. 

“Anxiety attack on Wednesday night, forgot to pack it last night. At least I still have some in the bottle. Nothing sucks more than having to wait for the pharmacy to refill a prescription you kept forgetting to call in.” He could tell Craig was giving him looks. They weren’t the pitying looks he got from Kyle’s family or his own uncle, they were the angry and disbelieving ones of a true friend. (Kyle had given him a dead arm once to deal with along the rest of his withdrawal symptoms. Then he got the prescription filled for him, and a drink from the nearest fast food place.)

“I really gotta get Kyle a pizza,” Stan said, and he heard Craig muttering accusations under his breath. 

Stan pressed the inside of his arm closer against his eyes as he felt the car drive over the roads. Fuck, he was so lucky to have a friend that would drive for him when he got like this, even if they called him names like, “Shit Brains” and “Self-Deprecating Fuck” under their breath. Craig’s driving was so smooth (and Stan was so out of it) that he didn’t notice that they’d come to their final stop in his driveway. 

“Stan, you’re home,” Craig said as he shoved gently at Stan’s shoulder. Stan used his free left hand to grab at Craig’s and held it over the console. 

“Okay,” he sighed. “I guess we’ll go in then.” He didn’t move because it didn’t occur to him that he had to.

“You’re gonna have to let me go so we can both get out of the car,” Craig said, and Stan hummed. 

“Pretty sure that’s illegal, Tucker. You liar.” Craig grunted as he ripped his hands away. Stan still didn’t move or sit up but he laughed. It was healthy to laugh, his therapist told him. Laugh when he felt like, she told him. Suddenly his seat belt came undone and an arm snaked under his back. 

“Come on Fucker, before you pass out again.” 

Craig didn’t lift him out of the car so much as he dragged him out and set him on his feet. He wrapped one of Stan’s arms around his shoulder and kicked the car door shut. If Stan cared he kept it to himself. They walked up the steps to Stan’s house and Craig unlocked the front door. No one was home. 

“Can you make it upstairs?” he asked. Stan hummed a yes and they started walking again. They took each step a second at a time and Stan stared at their feet the whole time. He ignored a feeling of anxiety when he pictured them slipping and falling all the way back down. Craig wouldn’t let that happen, he was a pretty strong guy. 

When the two reached his room, Stan leaned against the wall next to his door and shoved his shoes off of his feet. He undid the button and zipper on his jeans and pulled them off while Craig located the orange pill bottle on his nightstand. Once he took the pill it would still take a few hours for him to feel better, and he didn’t want to still be conscious until then. 

Stan took the opened bottle from Craig and shook out a single white pill. He reached for his water bottle and drank until he felt it go down. Then he closed both bottles and closed his eyes. 

“Let’s take a nap. Please?” He half-sat half-fell back onto his bed while he pulled at his friend. He didn’t open his eyes, just kicked and shoved at the blankets until they were back far enough for the both of them to get in. He settled on his side close to the edge. 

“Dude, you sure?” Stan nodded even though it made his head swim. He heard Craig pulling off his own jeans and then climbing over Stan to the spot behind him. Stan lifted his arm and Craig immediately wrapped his own around Stan’s waist. They’d done this before, cuddling was mandatory between them and their positions were established. Craig was a great big spoon to Stan’s little spoon. He made falling asleep much faster and easier. 

“I’ll get you a pizza too. It’ll be a pizza party,” Stan yawned, and then he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no idea how this story is gonna end so we're all here for a ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something important happens, idk.

 

Craig both fell asleep after Stan and woke up before him. It didn’t come as a surprise given how much rest and recovery he could tell the boy needed. When he sat up behind Stan he even noticed a half-empty box of Emergen-C resting on the boy’s dresser and a bedside water bottle with some orange liquid in it. That was probably the only reason Stan hadn’t stressed himself sick  _ yet _ . In consideration of Stan’s health, Craig readjusted the blankets over the still-sleeping boy. 

At that moment Stan turned in his sleep and pressed his face into Craig’s side, an arm wrapping around the top of his legs. Craig ran his fingers through his friend’s hair. 

He didn’t do this with other friends. The only time he was ever this affectionate with them was when he was still dating Tweek, and that boy didn’t seek it out like Stan did. Stan’s spirit animal was probably an abandoned puppy. Craig didn’t bother trying to pretend like he was only doing this because Stan was his friend and he needed it. No, there was a bigger reason, and it had to do with why he really followed Stan and that guy to the car park in the first place. 

Craig was attracted to Stan, he would never have denied that. Half the fucking school was, and it wasn’t just because he was hot. The guy was sweet and supportive and smart and posted pictures of animals he saw rather than any douche-y selfies. He didn’t use vulgar language about girls (even as a guy pretending to be straight) and he listened when someone talked about social issues. Craig knew he felt a small crush for him as soon as he realized the guy was gay- he practically got hard. And when Stan acted the way he did with the guinea pigs? His heart got a hard-on too. 

“Sorry,” he heard Stan mumble. Craig looked down and saw Stan wipe at his eyes as he tried to get them to stay open. 

“About what?” he mumbled back. Stan tightened his hold on Craig’s legs. 

“Making you take a nap with me. Spend time with me. All I’ve done is take up your time and energy when two weeks ago you were just trying to stop a bad thing from happening. ‘M sorry,” Stan repeated, and Craig frowned. He didn’t understand where this was coming from, but the small orange bottle nearby gave him an idea. He smoothed out Stan’s hair. 

“No, doofus, if I didn’t want to be around you I would have told you to fuck off already.” He wished he could show him just how much he cared, wished that he could lie back down and hug him and kiss him on the lips. But just because Stan was gay didn’t mean that he was attracted to Craig, a stereotype he’d heard enough of himself. 

“You’re saying that because I passed out and you think I’m dying or something,” Stan whined, and then he shoved his face back into his side. Craig laughed. Fuck, he had a crush on a tough football player that cuddled. 

“I’m saying it because it’s true. All my friends sitting at your table today wasn’t my idea, they did that of their own accord when they saw us show up at school together. I’ve been staring at you for the past two weeks and they definitely noticed. Hell, I think Tweek was thinking about bringing you free coffee as some sort of friendship gift.” He didn’t add that it was because they assumed that Craig not only had a crush on Stan but had somehow broken down the athlete’s first heterosexual barrier. It was cringe-worthy to imagine how obnoxious they would be if they knew the truth. 

“So you’re really my friend then?” Stan asked. His brown eyes looked up at Craig and the taller boy very much wanted to kiss his whole face. 

“I even give you permission to make fun of me,” Craig vowed. It made Stan smile so Craig hoped that was worth it. He’d revoked Clyde’s teasing privileges. 

“You’re  _ gay _ ,” Stan said and the both of them laughed. Stan moved to sit up and Craig moved over so he had more room. They both looked forward at the blankets. 

“I’d be picking out tonight’s outfit by now,” Stan observed. It took a second for Craig to understand what he meant. When he understood he hummed. He imagined Stan rummaging through his closet to find something that made him look even better than he already did. He was the kind to put in a lot of effort for that sort of thing. 

“What else would you do?” Whenever Craig got the chance to go out to Denver, he had to plan it carefully. His parents would have to be out or totally unconscious, and Tricia would have to be sleeping at a friend’s house. He’d have to have enough money for a bus ticket and to not have drunk too much of his dad’s alcohol stash to behave differently. He’d only managed it a handful of times since he started doing it (sometime after his eighteenth birthday), but knew Stan had a regular routine. 

“Plan out what I’d look like- it always involved tight jeans and eyeliner. Then I’d wait until my parents had gone to bed and then I would sneak out through my window. I would have parked my car a few houses down so that they couldn’t hear it start outside. I’d listen to music as I drove, and park the car in that fucking car park. I’d get in line and wait to show my fake ID and pay the fee. Then I’d head upstairs and have a drink. Sometimes I waited for someone to come to me, sometimes I went to them. All of the bartenders and bouncers know me now.” To Craig’s surprise, Stan sounded sad telling these details than reminiscent or happy. 

“Do you want to go back?” After what happened, Craig would have felt entirely too unsafe doing what he normally did. Besides, now that he had a crush on someone hooking up with a stranger would have made him feel like shit. 

“Kinda, but not because of sex. I was surrounded by all kinds of people who were queer, not just gay guys. One of the bouncers is transgender, one of the bartenders is a lesbian, and it was cool. If I told anyone who worked there about Lou they would kick his ass. Part of the reason I keep coming to you is that you’re gay too, so I feel like I’m still part of something.” Craig nodded as Stan spoke. 

“Part of the reason Tweek and I are still friends is that we’re the only queer kids still in school. Fuck, we probably would have hung out with Wendy if she stuck around.” 

Stan’s elementary girlfriend moved away in middle school after she came out as a lesbian. While a lot of the kids in their class didn’t have a problem with it, a lot of people started acting like assholes. The Testaburgers were fortunate enough to successfully move away and start new lives somewhere else. He remembered how everyone was confused at how upset Stan was even though they hadn’t dated in forever. 

“I talk to her sometimes,” Stan confessed, “but she doesn’t know it’s me. I remembered her tumblr page and talk to her on there. Technically I have come out to someone else from South Park, but she cut almost everyone off and… I couldn’t tell her the truth about who I was. But she’s very happy and when we talk she’s very sympathetic.” It wasn’t all that surprising to hear. 

“I know it’s scary, but I think if you came out to your friends or even my friends, you’d still be accepted. You know I wouldn’t hang out with them if they didn’t accept me. And I really  _ really _ doubt Kenny is completely straight anyway.” Stan laughed softly at that. 

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “I just always have this voice in my head that tells me how awful my life’s gonna be if I tell anyone. And I don’t know what I would do if my dad found out.” Craig could sympathize, but his own story was different. 

Although Craig’s dad initially disapproved of his son’s interest in boys all those years ago, the Tucker household since then had been very supportive and pro-LGBTQ+. Thomas immediately grew concerned if he ever got wind of Craig receiving any kind of derogatory language at school because he was gay, and his mom drove him, Tweek, and his sister to Colorado Pride one year. 

“My parents would totally take you in, I think, or Token’s, since they’re cool too. We would totally have your back if you wanted,” he offered. Stan smiled but kept his gaze on his wringing hands. 

“I guess I’ll just have to have a pizza party for all of you, then.” 

 

Stan let Craig organize a giant sleepover (a manly, grown-up sleepover) with all of their friends. Kyle and Kenny were easiest to convince because they wanted to take Stan up on their rain-checked Friday Boy’s Night from the week before. They seemed hesitant when Stan told them Craig and his friends would be with them, and that Token would be hosting, but agreed anyway. No animosity existed anymore between the groups and Token’s parents were far nicer than Kyle’s. 

With Token and the other guys, though, the spontaneity of the idea, from  _ Craig _ no less, drew suspicion. It took a slight amount of begging Token and a promise to play  _ one _ party game to Clyde to sell them. By “party game” Stan hoped it was nothing that they could use to put pressure on him, although Tweek probably wouldn’t let them play anything risky, both for his own and for Stan’s sake. Fuck, Stan would have to buy him a pizza too. 

“Tell them I’ll pay for three pizzas,” Stan said to Craig. Craig side-eyed him for a moment before relaying the information through the group chat. It was the last thing that needed to be said before everyone was on board, especially Clyde. 

“You good to drive?” Craig asked. They started stuffing their backpacks (that Craig made Stan get from the car) with overnight things. 

“Yeah, I don’t feel sick anymore,” Stan said anymore. He turned his head slowly and closed his eyes, trying to gauge if he felt any nausea or dizziness. The dizziness always took a little longer to go away, but Stan slept long enough for it to completely pass. 

Once again Craig sat in the backseat as Stan went to pick up his best friends. Kenny’s smile upon seeing Craig seemed wider than his actual face. Rather than feeling annoyed, however, Craig just stared at the back of the driver’s seat and hoped Kenny couldn’t see his blush. He knew that somehow Kenny could though because Kenny knew everything about everybody without even listening to gossip. If secrets were cash, he’d be richer than Token. 

And as Craig thought that, the boy’s small mansion came into view. Craig whispered the gate’s code and a moment later it opened. The Blacks installed the gates as a measure of keeping annoying townspeople out and their son’s friends from sneaking out while drunk and/or stoned. Craig didn’t think the second reason would work but admitted he was wrong when Clyde stood there staring at it one night with tears running down his face. Tweek got close to escaping when he tried to climb it but couldn’t grip the slippery bars. 

Those two should never be left alone together, Craig realized. 

Clyde, ever the eager host, was already there to open the door for them when they walked up the front steps. He listed off the snacks already available before stopping everything and staring at Stan. 

“I’ll order them now,” Stan told him, and Clyde smiled and continued to walk down the stairs to the basement. Token was rearranging the furniture so that they could face each other easier (and access the food on the coffee table). Kenny ran and flung himself on the fluffy blue loveseat, all while screaming obscene threats if anyone were to take his new spot from him. They all ignored him because there was more than enough seating, and also because Tweek claimed it was haunted. 

“Tweek is gonna be so worried,” Craig sighed. Stan and Kyle heard him but didn’t ask any follow-up questions. Tweek worried a lot and expressed his worries repeatedly so they’d know by the end of the night. 

Jimmy and Tweek both arrived before the pizza did, so the middle-aged delivery man saw seven teenage boys standing and staring at the pizza boxes while the one in front signed for them. Stan had to make Token hold Clyde down as he explained who got first dibs. 

“I chose Kyle, Craig, and Tweek to get pizzas for. They get to pick their slices first,” Stan said, not too unlike a mother trying to reason with a crying child. 

“But why?” Clyde whined, “What did they do to get special treatment?” At this, Stan shrugged. 

“I’m not sure, actually, but it’s the only thing I remember thinking today.” They finally followed the pizzas down to the basement where Stan placed them in the center of the coffee table. Tweek pulled Craig back after they got their first picks. Although he seemed nervous at the sight of Kenny’s possessiveness over the loveseat, he seemed okay. His tics were mild. 

“You got a crush on, ergh, Stan, right? I swear he likes you back. This is the furthest you’ve been from each other like all day.” Then Tweek grinned as he looked over, and Craig followed his field of vision. His eyes met Stan’s, who immediately looked away and possibly blushed. 

“He’s straight, though, isn’t he?” Craig lied. He was interested in what his ex-boyfriend had to say because although he was a little unhinged at times, the blonde was very observant when it came to others. Tweek eyed the boy carefully, not caring that Stan was aware of the staring. 

“I think if you had to pin any of those guys as completely straight, Stan shouldn’t be your pin,” he said slowly. 

“Or Kenny,” Craig said, just to say something. Tweek nodded. 

“Or Kenny.” 

 

Stan sat on the middle cushion on one of the two couches available, Kyle to his left and Craig to his right. Kenny even sat on the side closer to them on his precious loveseat. He felt supported and like his friends had his back even as they interacted with the other boys in the room. The calm, low-level of energy in the room calmed his nerves and allowed him to participate in conversations as he needed to. Mostly he picked up on how his best friends interacted with different people, and on Craig’s mannerisms with his best friends. It was easier to watch than to talk. 

Despite the recovery time he spent sleeping that day, he didn’t have a lot of emotional charge in him to spend. He knew that at the end of the night he’d have the opportunity to reveal a secret that gave him a lot of stress, and it was better to save up energy in case he actually talked. It wouldn’t happen until the end of the night anyway. The reason he wanted to wait had to do with Craig’s friends. How comfortable was Craig with them, and how trustworthy were they to not say anything if Stan came out? He already knew he could trust Tweek despite the weird looks the boy kept giving him. While Token seemed like he could keep a secret, he also seemed like the kid who would tell his parents anything- and Stan didn’t know anything about Token’s parents. Clyde and Jimmy just liked talking. 

While he mediated a stupid debate between Kyle and Kenny about the comeback of mullets(and not for the first time), he leaned his back against Craig’s shoulder without thinking. Somehow he had subconsciously equated Craig with physical comfort, and it wasn’t until Kenny stopped talking and laughed at him that he realized what he was doing. His face felt hot. 

“You’re not gonna pass out again, right?” Kyle asked. The ginger didn’t seem too concerned which told Stan that he looked alright. 

“I’m fine. I didn’t make a mess earlier, did I?” As the topic changed to what had happened at lunch, the other boys in the room began to quiet and focus on them. Craig hadn’t told them anything about what happened, and they wanted to know from Stan why it happened in the first place. 

“No, you fell kinda backward, just slid off of Craig. He caught you before you hit your head though,” Kyle said around a mouthful of pizza. Stan felt Craig shift when he heard his name. 

“You forgot to take your medication again?” Kyle murmured. Stan nodded, blushing as he realized that others were listening in. 

“I didn’t even realize it’d been two days until my head started swimming,” he confessed. Kyle gave him a pointed look, one that reminded Stan of all the other times he’d forgotten to take proper care of himself. 

“Honestly, I thought the last two weeks were a result of you not taking your meds,” Kenny said. Part of Stan knew that this was an intentional prompt from Kenny to open up about what the hell had happened. The other part of him realized that he must have looked really rough up until today. His therapist was wrong this time then- people do notice when something’s off. 

“No, that was the result of something else. I’m getting over it though, I promise.” He knew Kyle wouldn’t let it go unless he made a sober promise. 

Stan moved so his back was against the couch cushion instead of Craig’s body. It felt better to have everyone in his field of vision and knowing no one was staring at him from behind. A quick glance around the room showed him that everyone was paying attention to him, idly waiting for him to finish explaining or to confirm that he was okay. It would be easier to make the announcement now if he wanted to than to call for everyone’s attention later on. He looked at Craig, whose hand he could feel next to his leg. The boy was trying to comfort him without drawing too much attention, too much pressure. 

“Is there something you need to say, Stan?” Kenny asked. He was much softer and more serious than he’d been just a few moments ago. When they needed him to Kenny always shifted from the jokester to someone they could lean on. Kyle, who knew that something was absolutely going on and Stan could tell he desperately wanted to know everything, only softened his expression and smiled. There was no pressure, he was their best friend and they’d never make him feel bad. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want anyone outside of this room to know. Not until everyone’s made it out of South Park for good,” Stan said. He addressed it to Kyle and Kenny but the others understood it was for them too. 

“I’d kick their asses if they said anything,” Craig said, and suddenly eyes were on him. The track star’s friends knew that if Craig was serious then they had to be too. 

“We promise we won’t,” Tweek said, and the others nodded, murmuring their promises to keep their mouths shut. Stan took a deep breath before he began. 

“I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's WHAT!? Holy shit- did you see that coming!?
> 
> Everyone should've seen that coming that boy is hella gay, always has been.


	6. Chapter 6

Bar Games Ch. 6

 

For the first several seconds after the confession, Stan did not move, blink, or breathe. He could’ve been mistaken for a very-realistic dummy if it weren’t for his searching eyes. There wasn’t any inhibition in him that kept him from making and maintaining eye contact with everyone in front of him, and he did his best to determine what their immediate thoughts and reactions were. While his own hands began shaking after the crushing silence lasted a second too long, Craig’s hand remained steady and warm on his back. 

“Stan?” He snapped his head to Kyle, the first to speak in nineteen seconds (and yes, he counted). His best friend’s freckled face seemed maybe confused, maybe concerned, maybe intrigued. Stan couldn’t trace any disgust or resentment but sometimes people’s expressions didn’t match their thoughts. Kyle knew he wasn’t going to respond without any reassurance first. 

“Did- is that why you’ve been so…?” The rest of the question rang in Stan’s ears even though the words weren’t spoken. He bit his lip and looked at his hands. 

“No, I’ve known for a really long time, actually. It’s just that something happened that made me realize I needed support from friends rather than anyone else,” he explained. He had to speak tentatively about the event because  _ that _ wasn’t something he wanted too many other people to know about. If he’d been able to get out of the situation alone, he would’ve probably taken that secret to the grave. (It was better that Craig intervened, so much better.)

“How long, buddy?” Kenny asked. While his expression couldn’t be read, Stan understood that Kenny wasn’t judging him or thinking terrible things about him. Kenny simply accepted people for who they were, always happy to care for someone as long as they weren’t awful people. 

“Since fourth grade,” Stan whispered. He heard the breath intakes and movements stopping in the middle of the motion. 

“ _ Fourth grade? _ ” Tweek asked. The significance wasn’t lost on anyone and was more shocking than if he’d said any other year. 

“I didn’t really understand it for a while, and I didn’t come to grips with it until after my dad started acting like an asshole again,” he said. Nobody needed clarification on that because Randy’s antics were always well known. 

“And your girlfriends?” Kenny asked. Stan shrugged. 

“I didn’t want rumors to start. I was as good of a boyfriend as I could be, but eventually, the depression and football obligations took up too much time.” He doubted that any of the couple girls he dated felt particularly hurt or sad about it, most of the time they were the ones to end it. 

“So you’re just gay,” Clyde said, and Stan nodded. The boy shrugged his shoulders and took a bite out of his pizza. 

A minute passed as people thought of and then dismissed questions they had. Craig stayed quiet but his hand never left Stan’s back. Then Kyle grabbed Stan’s wrist and dragged him to the back of the room for whatever discussion they were about to have. Clyde took the opportunity to suggest a party game- Truth or Dare- and reminded Craig of his promise to join. 

“You’ve known for eight years and you’ve never said anything. Why didn’t you tell us?” Kyle hissed. Stan poked at Kyle’s elbow to make him realize that he looked like his forever-lecturing mother. He didn’t let up the stare though. 

“I told you, it took me a while to realize it, then my dad turned into a homophobic asshole. I figured that even if I came out to you guys if your parents overheard us talking about it- they would definitely tell my dad. They’d think it was best that he knew or whatever parental bullshit, but… I literally can’t come out until college. Nobody outside this room is gonna know until I’m sure it won’t get back to him,” Stan pleaded. The thought of potential consequences made his heart race, his eyes dart around the room, and the skin on his back grow chills. 

“Were you afraid we wouldn’t accept it?” Kyle asked. His voice came out as a murmur, a sympathetic look on his face. Stan looked in his eyes for a moment before nodding. 

“Depression tells you a lot of things that aren’t true. If it made me think that you guys would hate me for not wanting to hang out just one day, you can imagine what it made me think about telling you guys that I’m gay,” he confessed. Kyle’s face fell and Stan was immediately enveloped in a hug that squeezed the nerves out of him, compressed the growing ball of electricity in his gut until it didn’t feel like a threat. 

“You’re my best friend in the whole world, Stan. I will never give that up, not even when I get mad at you for drinking, or for keeping secrets because I know who you are. I’m always gonna be there dude, don’t fucking forget that,” Kyle said. The words and their intensity made Stan’s hands shake, so he pressed them deeper into the back of the other boy’s shoulders. 

Their moment lasted until they heard shouts and gasps and curses come from the main living area. They separated and saw most of the other boys in the middle of a myriad of loud reactions, staring at the source of their surprise. On top of the fluffy blue loveseat, Tweek was straddling Kenny and kissing the life out of him. Kenny did not seem to hate it if the hands on Tweek’s back and ass were anything to go by. Kyle and Stan looked at each other before making their way back to the others. 

“What’s going on?” Stan asked Craig. The taller noiret seemed to be shell-shocked as he stared at his best-friend-slash-ex make out with someone else. 

“Jimmy dared Tweek to kiss Kenny. It was only supposed to last a second,” he whispered. Stan looked again at the two blonds. Kenny had moved them so that he lied on his back with Tweek on top of him. 

“Well that settles something else I guess,” Kyle muttered before jumping back onto the couch and grabbing another slice of pizza. Stan climbed back onto his spot next to Craig, once again failing to notice how much he leaned into his new friend. 

“I guess we’ll have to redo rooming assignments,” Clyde laughed. Token sighed because he rather liked keeping the assignments as they were. 

“Well, I call Kyle, because I  _ know _ that he’s clean. I don’t trust you two,” Token said, pointedly looking at both Clyde and Jimmy. Kyle whipped his head up to stare at the boy. 

“You b-break a lamp o-one time,” Jimmy replied.  

“I thought I’d room with Stan,” Kyle frowned. Everyone that wasn’t Stan or making out with another person shook their head. 

“He rooms with Craig tonight. You’re rooming with me, Clyde and Jimmy room with each other, and I guess those two-  _ who should go somewhere else to continue _ \- will room together,” Token explained. Kyle looked at Stan with suspicion. 

“Is there something else I should know, Stan?” Stan blushed. 

“It’s easier to sleep if he’s with me,” he whispered. Kyle raised an eyebrow (a look he learned from his mother for sure) before letting the subject go (temporarily). 

Kenny and Tweek rolled off the loveseat and hit the floor below them with a deep thud. All of the physical sensations that they should have felt seemed to go to everyone else since they didn’t react. Although, now Kenny was on top, so maybe it was intentional. 

Token stood up while he glared at the blonds of the group. 

“Look, you two  _ can’t _ leave a stain in this room, especially with other people watching, go pick a room down the hall!” For the rest of their lives, the boys would never be able to correctly recall how the two managed to get up and walk down the hall perfectly and without their lips separating. 

“Th-that was imp-pressive, Token, y-y-you gotta admit,” Jimmy joked, and Clyde hummed in agreement. 

“It was a disaster waiting to happen,” Kyle muttered, and Token broadly gestured to him for emphasis. 

Stan began to understand that his and Craig’s chance night of bonding was just the universe’s excuse to reunite the two groups of friends. He smiled as it occurred to him that maybe what almost happened  _ had _ to have almost happened in order for his and everyone’s lives to improve just a little. Kyle and Token moved to sit next to each other and discussed a probably nerdy topic. He watched Craig laugh under his breath at Clyde and Jimmy while they built on joke after joke. 

He didn’t realize that he had started to fall asleep against Craig until the Kyle tapped at his knee. As he looked up he saw that almost everyone had started to stand up and make their way to their rooms. Token and Kyle took it upon themselves to tidy the coffee table the best they could before leaving. 

“Come on dwarf,” Craig murmured in his ear before standing up. He paused and stretched while Stan got his bearings.

“You’re like two inches taller, max,” he responded, and Craig snorted. 

“I was talking about the seven dwarves. You’re Sleepy,” he clarified. Stan shrugged; he knew it was true. 

The two began walking, and Stan let Craig take the lead in finding them a room. They walked into the middle door on the left side of the hallway, and Stan drooled at the sight of a queen-sized bed. He leaped and turned in the air, his back connecting with the soft duvet. 

“I wish I could just move here,” Stan moaned. Craig laughed. 

“Maybe we can permanently replace your club nights with this,” he said. He pulled back the blankets after he stripped himself of his shirt and his jeans. Stan did the same without getting off the cloud beneath him. 

“There are spare toothbrushes in the bathroom down the hall,” Craig said. Stan waved him off. 

“I brought that with me,” he said. 

“But you forgot your medication again.” The split second he processed that statement Stan jolted upright. Fuck,  _ the whole reason _ he’d been fucked up today and he managed to forget once again. 

Then Craig tossed something into his lap. It was bright orange with a little white. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things wrong. 

“Oh. You grabbed it.”

“Yeah,” Craig said, a casual tone as he walked out of the room, presumably to brush his teeth before anyone else. 

_ ‘He remembered it even when I didn’t,’  _ Stan thought. He stared down at the bottle in his lap as if he expected it to change into something else. A new feeling washed over him like a cool wave, one that soothed and invigorated him. The last two weeks he worried that even Craig stepping in that night had been too much to handle regarding Stan, but then he did this? It made that one little bit of projected self-hatred disappear from his image of Craig and from himself disappear. Someone cared about him genuinely. 

Stan moved numbly as he dug through his bag for his toothbrush and toothpaste, recalling all recent images and memories of his new friend, someone he’d known since he was small. He took the orange bottle with him as he walked to the bathroom. Craig had the right idea using it before the others got there. 

The boy in question stepped out right as he arrived at the door, and their faces were only a few inches apart. Stan’s breath caught in his throat, and then he ducked his head and carried on into the bathroom. The trance remained until he was standing back in the doorframe of their shared bedroom. 

Craig had taken off his shirt and slipped into the left side of the bed. Stan didn’t really have any preference if someone was sharing the bed with him, only that he be the little spoon. He trusted that Craig knew this by now. Actually, he trusted that Craig would wrap him in his arms without being asked. 

And as Stan thought that, it became the moment their dynamic changed. 

As soon as he placed his items back into their places, he pounced on the bed and skillfully straddled Craig, who let out an “oof” in response. Without any warning, Stan put his hands on the other boy’s cheeks and pressed lips against lips. He felt oddly like a puzzle piece slotting together with another, but also like he was finally in charge of himself as an individual. It wasn’t a feeling that would last forever though Stan knew that after this moment his life would irrevocably change. 

After an infinite and yet small amount of time, Stan pulled back to gauge Craig’s reaction. The crystal blue eyes almost sparkled (because of course they did, the boy was so  _ gay _ ). 

“Yeah?” Craig asked, and Stan knew what he was asking. They couldn’t share a kiss like that and then him not understand the question. 

“Yeah,” Stan nodded, and they were kissing again. Stan ground his hips into the other boy’s out of habit, out of instinct, and that gave Craig the signal to take charge (apparently). Stan felt a whoosh of air and then was flat on his back, hoping that his mouth was conveying how much he wanted this. He squeezed at Craig’s shoulders, then the shoulder blades, and then just on the sides of his spine, slowly traveling downward, fingertips pressed into well-developed muscle. 

“Stan, you have been driving me absolutely crazy tonight, I thought that if you kept leaning into me I would fucking  _ explode _ ,” Craig growled into his ear. Stan started panting, gripped at the shirt covering skin he desperately wanted to touch. He pulled it up until Craig did away with it. Stan almost drooled at the sight before him. 

“Well right now you are allowed to do  _ whatever you want _ to get back at me,” he breathed. Craig grunted and wasted no time in pulling Stan’s hard dick out of his underwear, and then doing the same to his own. The warm skins of each pressed together, and Stan’s eyes may have rolled back into his head. Only four weeks without sex and this is how bad he needs it? Fuck. 

Craig began to grind his hips against Stan’s in circles, and every other cycle pushed extra weight onto their trapped cocks, leaving Stan breathless and writhing. He pulled at Craig’s neck until he could suck at a spot just under his earlobe, the act of which caused the boy to stiffen and then work faster. Stan’s nails dug into Craig’s shoulder blade. 

It became hard to account for each and every little movement and action when the slick hotness of it all overwhelmed the both of them in a way they hadn’t experienced before. While they both knew that curses and admirations and utter nonsense came out of both of their mouths, neither could exactly recall who said what. Eventually one of them came and the warm liquid added to the other’s pleasure, resulting in his own climax just a couple seconds later. 

While Craig moved just a few inches down to start kissing at Stan’s chest, waves of hot and cold ebbed and flowed through Stan. His ears were ringing and he didn’t realize the blue-eyed boy was talking until he saw his face, lips moving. 

“My ears are ringing,” he said and smiled when Craig started laughing. As if the universe knew that he’d want to hear the sound, the blood rushing subsided just enough for him to listen to his lover’s laugh. 

“I asked if you wanted me to get a rag to clean us up,” Craig repeated, and Stan nodded before he could actually process the words. The taller boy got up and grabbed the t-shirt he wore earlier to wipe their abdomens. 

“I think I just died,” Stan marveled, which caused the other boy to laugh again. 

“Your heads are in the clouds, that much I can tell.” Then they were both side by side underneath soft blankets on a soft bed. 

“No, I think these are called pillows,” Stan remarked. 

“I think I really like you,” Craig replied, and Stan turned his head to look at him. He was sure his face looked as flushed. 

“I really like you too,” he whispered. Craig nodded. 

“That’s… you wanna go out sometime?” Stan took his turn to nod, which made Craig smile even more. 

“I’ll take it a step further, you wanna be my boyfriend?” Craig asked, and Stan smiled and nodded happily one more time. Craig leaned forward to peck Stan on the lips. 

“Good. Because for once I would love to be spooning with someone I really wanted to wake up to,” he whispered. 

“For once I would love that too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for making you wait so long for the last chapter. I never do that when I write multi-chaptered fics, it just feels wrong. I've had several life-things I had to participate in, and I chose to focus on those things. I may have milked it. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the story?


End file.
